


Lord What Fools These Mortals Be

by Chash



Series: Revels Here Tonight [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Minor Monty Green/Nathan Miller
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-06
Updated: 2017-10-06
Packaged: 2019-01-09 14:18:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12278283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chash/pseuds/Chash
Summary: It shouldn't be that hard for Bellamy to ask Clarke if she wants to come to his sister's wedding with him. She already asked Monty on his behalf, and didn't have any trouble doing that for him. So he could do it for himself, too. No problem.That would be nice.





	Lord What Fools These Mortals Be

"Monty's not going to go to your sister's wedding with you."

Bellamy blinks, looks up from his grading to see Clarke sitting at one of the desks in the front row, watching him. It's not an unfamiliar sight, but he's usually not so engrossed that he misses her entirely. He's earned the slightly patronizing smile she gives him.

"Hi. How long have you been sitting there?"

"Not that long. You were busy."

"Yeah, I hate it when you interrupt my grading." He runs his hand through his hair, huffs out a breath. "Did you say Monty wasn't going to to my sister's wedding with me?"

"Yeah."

"And it was supposed to be news to me?"

"You said you wanted a date."

Octavia's exact words were _bring your art-teacher girlfriend, I want to meet her_ , but he couldn't really tell Clarke _that_ , so he'd paraphrased. He'd sort of been hoping that if he complained, she'd volunteer, but of course she just commiserated.

Obviously, he appreciates it, but it's really not the same.

"I didn't say I wanted to go with Monty. I assume he's going with Miller, anyway. I'm not going to steal his date."

"Wait, you knew about that?" she demands, sounding both annoyed and a little offended.

"You didn't?"

"Monty didn't want to jinx it. Which is cute," she adds, smiling. "I think he really likes Miller."

"Good. Miller really likes him too."

"Is that why you didn't go for him?" Clarke asks, curios. "You saw the sparks between them?"

He snorts. "No. Sometimes people just aren't compatible. This isn't something you need to fix, I promise."

"Yeah, but you still need a date for the wedding, right?"

"It's not a big deal if I go alone. My sister will live."

"Yeah, but--if you _want_ someone to go with you, I can do it."

His heart stops for half a second. She's a little flushed, like she's maybe embarrassed to be suggesting it, but she doesn't look unsure. The offer seems to be genuine.

He's honestly not sure how long it's been, that he's been in love with Clarke, but he didn't realize it until she asked if he wanted to go on a date with Monty, and it felt like his heart was twisting up in his chest. After all, you don't set people you're interested in up on dates with other people. He certainly wouldn't. And it hit him in the same moment that he wanted her, and she didn't want him, and he'd agreed to the date just so she wouldn't notice how discombobulated he was.

And it apparently worked; as far as he can tell, she hasn't noticed. It's nice, but also kind of frustrating. Somehow, even though she keeps trying to set him up with someone else, he can't douse the last flickering ember of hope that she feels the same way.

Especially since she's offering to be his date.

"You want to come to my sister's wedding?" he asks.

"I don't have to. But if you want company--" She pauses, worries her lip. "I guess Monty and Miller are already going, so you don't really need--"

"No," he says, maybe too quickly. "You should come. I hate weddings _and_ it's Octavia's, so I'm going to be a fucking miserable mess."

"Do you have actual duties to perform?"

"She said all I had to do was the father/daughter dance. I thought I had to give her away, but apparently they're just skipping that because O says it's patriarchal bullshit."

"Yeah, that sounds like someone you raised. As your date, would _I_ have duties to perform?"

"Probably not. But I can get you out of them if you do."

"I don't mind. I can perform duties. I'm actually good at weddings."

"You would be," he says, and she sticks her tongue out. 

"Sorry I was raised with wealth and privilege."

"Not sorry enough. You really don't have to come," he can't help adding. Just to be sure. "I can survive my sister's wedding alone. It's supposed to be fun."

"Yeah, you really sound enthused. If you're there and Monty and Miller are there, I'm just going to feel left out if I don't go. So unless you mind--"

"Please come to this wedding with me. I'm begging you. I'm going to be miserable alone."

She laughs. "Well, when you put it like that. Just tell me when and where and how much I should spend on the dress."

"Fuck, I don't know."

"Well, send me a copy of the invitation and I'll figure it out."

"Will do." He offers her a smile. "Thanks, Clarke. I really appreciate it."

"Some people think weddings are fun," she says, lofty, and he just snorts.

"You aren't seriously trying to tell me you're one of them, are you?"

"No. But those people exist." Her own smile is warm, and he feels the same familiar, warm churn in his stomach that he's felt every time he's seen her for the last month or so. And, honestly, since before then, but he'd been doing a really good job ignoring it before. Now he knows what it means, and he needs to figure out how to deal with it.

The wedding is either a great idea or a terrible one.

"It'll be fun," she says, and he ducks his head.

"Sure it will."

*

"Clarke didn't know you were dating Monty?" he asks Miller, the next time they're actually alone. It's about three weeks after his conversation with Clarke, because Miller's schedule was weird enough before he got a boyfriend, but Bellamy felt like this was an encounter worth having in person. Some day, he thinks soon, one of their talks about Clarke is going to turn to a _talk about Clarke_ , and he thinks he wants that to happen face to face.

He's not sure why, but he's rolling with it anyway.

"I wasn't going to tell her," says Miller, shrugging. "I figured Monty would. Is this about Octavia's wedding?"

"That's how she found out about you guys, yeah. And then she thought I didn't know either."

"Not everyone can be as oblivious as you two are," he says, and smirks when Bellamy scowls at him. "Just saying."

"Shut up."

"Am I supposed to care that she didn't know? I'm not sure what you want from me here. I have a boyfriend, everyone knows, we're doing well. You still don't have a date to your sister's wedding and she's complaining to me about it."

"Clarke's actually coming with me."

"Your idea or hers?"

"Hers. I chickened out of asking her," he admits. 

"Wow, what a shock. So she's coming as a friend?"

"Yeah."

Miller pets him, which is appreciated. "When'd you figure it out?"

"When she set me up with your boyfriend and I realized that was a pretty solid sign she didn't want to date _me_."

"Eh, I wouldn't go that far. You guys are super fucking incompetent."

"Thanks."

"Me and Monty gossip about it."

"Every part of this conversation is making me feel better. I'm really enjoying it."

"I think she likes you. She just probably hasn't noticed yet."

"Oh."

"Don't tell Monty I told you. I think we weren't supposed to interfere. But Jesus, dude. I'm just proud _you_ noticed."

"That's how low your expectations are now?" Miller just looks unimpressed, and he sighs. "Yeah, okay. How long have you known?"

"Like the first time I saw you two together. Seriously, you guys are so fucking obvious."

He sighs. "Well, as long as it's both of us."

*

Bellamy's favorite part of his sister's wedding is that it's not much of a _wedding_ , at least in the traditional sense. He and Octavia aren't at all religious, and Lincoln identifies _spiritual_ , so while there's definitely a ton to do, he doesn't have to bother with many boring rituals. He's helping out with finances, because venues and food are still expensive, but he's not organizing, and he's not expected to do much until the wedding itself.

Or he wasn't, until Clarke decided to go.

"You know this isn't a big deal, right?" he asks. She found out he hadn't gotten a tux yet and was not pleased about it, even though he was _going_ to get one. Apparently she can't get her outfit until he has his, so they can coordinate. "It's not prom."

"Are you telling me you think _prom_ is more important than your sister's wedding?" she asks, with an unimpressed look he absolutely deserves.

"No. Just that was the last time I was at an event where my date wanted me to coordinate with her. Also, it's a tux. It's black and white. Doesn't it go with everything?"

"I'm thinking more specific style."

"You already care about this more than Octavia has cared about any outfit she has ever worn in her entire life."

Clarke squints at him, like she's trying to solve a puzzle. "You aren't freaking out about this."

"About what? It's a tuxedo. We're going to find something."

"Your sister getting married. I guess with everything you've told me about her, I was assuming this would be really stressful for you. Her growing up, whatever."

"Oh, yeah." He flashes her a smile. "She and Lincoln have been engaged for like five years. I freaked the fuck out when it happened--I thought she was too young, he was too old, all the stuff you'd expect me to freak out about it. But that means I've had a while to get over it. Now I'm just happy for them."

"And not freaking out."

"I guess I don't get weddings."

"No?"

He shrugs. "It's a day. At the end of the day, they're going to be married, regardless of whatever else happens. I want O to have a good time, obviously, but she knows what she needs for that. All I have to do is show up and do what she tells me to. And what you tell me to."

"Me?"

"You have opinions. I don't mind going with them."

"I'm not trying to bulldoze you," she says, soft. "I just want to make sure you're set. I'm pretty sure it's going to become stressful for you at some point, so--"

"So you're making that happen earlier," he teases. 

"You're practicing. And maybe I just want to see you try on a bunch of tuxes."

"Is that really fun for you? I was just going to take the first one that fit."

"Come on, you have to get the appeal of hot guys in formal wear."

Obviously, Bellamy knows that he's hot. This isn't some huge revelation for him. And he probably looks good in formal wear. If Clarke had said that three months ago, it would have been easy to just laugh it off, instead of filing it away for future dissection.

But he's still going to try to laugh it off. He doesn't want her to _know_ that he cares she thinks he's hot.

"Not as much as the appeal of hot guys out of formal wear."

"Or, like, half in formal wear," she muses. "Undone top button, loose tie? Come on, that's a _look_."

"So, you're coming to this wedding with me because you want to hook up with a guy half out of formal wear?"

"Or I want to spend time with my friends." She gives him a gentle shove. "One or the other. Dressing room. Tuxes. Eye candy. Come on."

"I'm so lucky to have such a selfless friend."

He ducks into the stall, puts on the first tux, and when he comes out, Clarke actually wolf-whistles, so, overall, he can't really complain. Weddings with her seem pretty great, so far.

*

"You can go get her," Miller says.

“Isn’t she just going to come down when we text her? Why is anyone getting her?”

“It’s more romantic if you go up and get her,” says Monty.

“Your investment in my life is genuinely creepy,” he says. “Is that actually romantic? What makes it romantic? I’m not sure I believe you.”

“Which of us are currently in a relationship?” Monty asks, and Bellamy makes a face.

“Touché. I’ll go get her.”

He is, admittedly, excited to go see Clarke. He hasn’t seen her dress yet, but he knows she’s going to look staggeringly gorgeous and blow him away effortlessly, and they’ll spend the entire day together and probably even dance at least once. And then Octavia will be married and happy and everything will be awesome.

His expectations might be a little high. But somehow they still feel realistic.

He hits Clarke’s door buzzer and the intercom crackles into life. “Bellamy?”

“Yeah. We’re here. Obviously.”

“Okay, you need to come up and get the last couple inches of my zipper.”

“Of course I do,” he says, and the front door clicks open for him.

Her apartment is on the third floor, and she already has the door open for him when he gets up. She’s struggling into her shoes, but when she hears him she turns and he gets the full visual, Clarke gorgeous in a green and blue floral gown, her hair piled on her head, her smile somehow nervous.

“Holy shit,” he says.

“What?”

“You.”

She smiles, but it’s softer than he would have expected, more warm. “Thanks. You look pretty holy shit yourself. I got the zipper up most of the way, but it goes pretty high.”

“Sure. Turn around.”

She smells like she always does, but a little stronger, like weddings require just a touch more perfume, and with her hair up, he can see so much more skin than he’s used to.

She might have been right about formal wear.

He gets the zipper the rest of the way up and Clarke turns to give him a grin. “Still feeling okay?”

He’s feeling kind of nauseated, but just because he really wants to kiss her. “What?”

“Not freaking out about your sister getting married?”

“Nope. Just happy.”

“Good.” She glances around. “Okay, shoes, clutch, and that’s it. Traveling light.”

“Is everything in your clutch?”

She grabs her phone off the coffee table and shoves it in, checking the rest of the contents. “It is now. Ready?”

He offers his arm mostly because it feels like he can get away with it. “Ready.”

Apparently he can get away with it; she takes it without hesitation. “It’s going to be fun.”

And somehow, she isn’t wrong. They drive over blasting Monty’s high school mix, because he says weddings always make him nostalgic, and while Bellamy’s a little older, it’s his college music, so it still works. 

The wedding is at a park, and Octavia did most of the work herself. That did bother him, at least until he realized he didn’t want to be involved in anything, and if he was, he would be so stressed out that it would help no one. So instead he’s been doing only what Octavia tells him, and his primary responsibility is to be a guest who does not criticize or worry about any aspect of the ceremony.

So he can just enjoy the day, and that’s what Octavia seems to be doing too. The actual wedding takes about ten minutes and doesn’t even have _seating_ , they just all gather around a gazebo while a girl with wild red hair talks about the blessings of the earth and runs O and Lincoln through some self-written vows. 

They kiss until catcalls start, and then O pulls back, grins, throws her bouquet in the general direction of the crowd, and yells, “Let’s get wasted!”

It’s honestly kind of impressive.

“What gets me,” Monty says, once they’re set up at their picnic table with their food and alcohol, “is that the main event of this wedding is drunken debauchery, but we’re in the middle of the woods. So, like, at least a third of these people are probably DDs. Sorry, babe,” he adds, raising his cup to Miller.

“When you die of alcohol poisoning, I’ll laugh.”

"Awesome, solid plan."

“Most of them are actually sleeping here,” Bellamy adds. “They have tents. It’s like a music festival, but my sister’s wedding.”

“So it’s, like, _really_ good you weren’t involved in planning this, huh?” Clarke says. “You would have died.”

“She’s happy, so I’m happy.” Clarke looks at him, and he grins. “And, yeah, every time she told me anything about this wedding, I got a gray hair.”

“Yeah, this was probably the best-case scenario for you and your sister’s wedding, honestly,” says Miller. “I was expecting it to be way worse.”

“For me or as an event?”

“Honestly, both.”

“As always, you’re a ray of sunshine.” He finishes his drink. “Anyone want another?”

He stops by Octavia and Lincoln’s table on the way over to the beverage bar. They’re sitting alone, taking visitors as they come instead of having a real wedding party, but O drags him to sit.

“Where’s your girl?”

“Still not my girl. Sitting with Miller and Monty.”

“Why didn’t you bring them?”

“Because I wanted to tell you how proud I am and how much I love you without an audience.”

“Gross.”

“I am and I do, though.”

“I’m proud of me and love me too,” she says. “You’re okay.”

He snorts. “Thanks.”

“Your girl’s cute.”

“She is.”

“Are you going to dance with her? It’s a wedding, it’s, like, the perfect excuse to get laid.”

“Thanks for the tip. I’m dancing with you, that’s my only firm commitment. Also, this is the worst wedding ever to get laid at. We’re in the middle of the woods. Miller’s driving us back. We didn’t even need to get a hotel.”

"I still believe in you."

"Wow. Now that you're married, you've gone soft." He kisses her cheek. "Congratulations. Seriously."

"Thanks, seriously. Get drunk, come do introductions soon. I'm never too busy for my big brother's friends."

"That is definitely a lie," he says. "Back later."

He doesn't end up introducing Clarke until he's going to grab his sister for the dance, which is a little unfortunate because everyone is lowkey drunk by that time. But Clarke and Octavia just kind of gush at each other about how the ceremony was great, and their dresses are great, and alcohol is great, and a little about how he's great, but Clarke brings it up and O agrees, and they move on pretty quickly.

The father/daughter dance is probably supposed to be some serious, somber affair, but not only is Octavia already three sheets to the wind, but they're not really like that. So they dance to "I Feel Pretty," from _West Side Story_ , like they did when they were kids. It was their mom's favorite musical, the CD they begged her to play, and he remembers twirling Octavia around the living room as she laughed. 

It's not somber or serious, but he still ends up a little teary. He's not giving her away, but it still feels like the end of something. Not in a bad way, just--

She's grown up. They both are.

"Thanks, Bell," she says. "You've been really cool about this."

"Are you thanking me for not making a scene at your wedding?"

"Honestly? Yup."

"It's the least I can do." He hugs her. "I'm going to say goodnight now."

"Oh my god, you aren't seriously leaving, are you? I know you're old, but this is a lot even for you."

"I'm not leaving, I'm just assuming you're going to get so drunk you won't remember anything past this point."

"Hashtag goals," she says. "Have a good night. If you get laid, don't tell me, but get laid."

"That seems to be the consensus, yeah." 

Per their agreement, he leaves the dance floor before Lincoln comes on. The father/daughter dance, or whatever their sibling version of it should be called, was important to Octavia because she wanted him to be involved, wanted him to have a role to play, but he's not her owner. She wanted to make sure it didn't seem like he was passing her along to her husband.

Lincoln comes in once the song starts up, a full break, and Bellamy looks around for his friends. It's a little dark already, and the whole atmosphere feels more like a summer cookout than a wedding, despite the catering and open bar. 

Clarke appears at his elbow before he can find anyone. "Do you want to be drunker?"

"Not really."

"Good, more for me."

"How drunk are you planning to get?" he asks, amused.

"Not as drunk as the bride, so I'm set." She holds up a red solo cup. "This was either for you or me. Now it's for me."

"I didn't know we already had one. Share it?"

"Deal." She takes a healthy swallow and passes the cup to him. "You still okay?"

"Good," he says. "Great. That's exactly the amount of involvement I should have had in this event. She's happy, she's having the wedding she wants, and that's all I wanted."

"Cool. I don't even need to provide emotional support."

He takes a drink, discovers she got gin and tonic. His favorite, not hers. "I'm really glad you're here," he says, feeling too honest, but--it's a nice night. And it's time.. "I wanted to ask you."

"Ask me?"

"To come."

She smiles. "You could have. I was having trouble figuring out if you wanted me to offer."

One more drink and he passes the cup back. "No, I mean--I wanted to _ask you_. To be my date."

Her eyes widen, but somehow, he's not nervous. The expression is all surprise, with no upset at all, at least not yet.

"That's why Octavia gave me a plus one," he adds.

That makes her laugh. "Because you said you might ask me? I'm amazed she has that much faith in you."

"Jesus, no, of course not. She gave me the plus one and told me to ask you. She said if you didn't come there would be an empty seat at my table."

"We didn't even have assigned seating."

"Yeah, well, apparently I raised her sneaky and dishonest. It doesn't have to be a thing," he adds. "If you don't want it to be."

Clarke finishes the drink and puts the cup on a table behind them, and then she moves closer pressing up against his side. Octavia and Lincoln are still dancing, but he thinks the song is winding down soon. He can't be sure, since he doesn't know it.

"Do you want to dance?" she asks, pressing her lips against his arm.

"I think it would be weird if we tried to pull focus from the bride and groom right now," he teases. "But, you know, after--"

She slides her hand up his jaw and leans up, pressing a kiss against his mouth. It's soft, almost a whisper, more reassurance than passion, letting him know she's saying yes.

He's grinning when she pulls back, and she smiles too, tucking herself into his side.

"We can wait for a good song," she says, and he squeezes her, kisses her hair. 

"Yeah," he agrees. "No rush."

*

Monty and Clarke end up completely plastered by the time they're heading home, although Bellamy isn't entirely sure how. He didn't think Clarke was drinking that much, but in retrospect, she and Monty were sharing all their drinks, and he doesn't know how many of them there were. They always seemed to have at least one cup between them, and there could have been a lot.

He and Miller pour their respective significant others into the back seat. Clarke curls in on herself, murmuring, half asleep against the door before Bellamy's even got his seat belt fastened in shotgun. But he can see her in the rear view mirror, settling in, and he can't quite stop looking.

He's only kissed her the once, but he's going to kiss her a lot more. 

"So, you guys are a thing now, right?" Miller asks. "Monty said you definitely were and we didn't need to do anything else, but I couldn't tell if that was dating dancing or pining dancing."

"Yeah, that's a fine distinction I can't make either." He looks away from Clarke, smiles at his hands instead. "Yeah, we're a thing."

"Thank god. Monty and I need to figure out if our relationship functions independent from your sexual tension."

"You don't sound worried."

"If I was worried, I would have told you not to make a move. Don't get me wrong, I want you to be happy, but I'm not risking Monty just so you can get laid."

"Yeah, I wouldn't want that. I asked for literally none of this," he can't help adding. "I didn't even know it was _happening_ , and I still think it's creepy how much you care."

"Noted." Miller starts up the car. "Good wedding, though, right?"

"Yeah, good wedding."

They get to Clarke's first, and Bellamy shakes her leg, mostly because he's worried if he opens the door while she's still passed out, she'll actually fall out of the car. But it's nice to get to see her blinking awake and smiling at him too. 

"You need help getting upstairs?" he asks.

"Are you not coming?"

It's his turn to blink. "Coming?"

"You're going to stay the night, right?"

For some reason, he finds himself glancing at Miller, who just rolls his eyes. "It's not like I want to make another stop. If you stay here, we can just go home."

He offers his fist, and Miller bumps it. "Night. Thanks for driving."

"No problem. Have a good night."

Clarke gives him the keys to deal with, leans on his shoulder as he gets the front door and then her apartment unlocked. She turns on the light and throws her clutch on the couch, tugs him down by the lapels of his tux for a long kiss.

"I can't believe you were going to go home," she teases, and he laughs.

"I thought you were too drunk."

"To get laid, yeah. But I still want you here."

"I want to be here too. And you need help with your zipper, right?"

She bites her lip, smiling. "That was going to be my line, yeah."

"Your line?" 

"You weren't the only one who wanted this to be a real date, Bellamy."

The smile that spreads over his face must be ridiculous. "Yeah? I thought you weren't--you set me up with _Monty_. Twice!"

"And I was honestly so relieved it didn't work. Pissed too, like--you're such a great guy! He should have been all over that."

He laughs. "Wow. You're not great at this."

"Neither are you." She tugs on his tie until it comes undone, and her smirk reminds him what she said about hot guys half out of formal wear. "But I think we're going to be fine together."

"Yeah," he murmurs, working the pins out of her hair as gently as he can, helping her undress as she helps him. "I think so too."


End file.
